The iPhone
by Nelauk
Summary: In which England holds America's prized iPhone hostage. While wearing a Playboy bunny outfit. USUK...sort of.


"Oh my _God."_

"Don't you dare—"

"Oh—oh my fucking GOD, holy SHIT…"

"Alfred, I will come over there and _wring _your bloody neck—"

"Save that for later, man!" In a flash, America's phone was out in an instant. "I've gotta take a picture of this!"

"Oh no you won't!" His fury spilling over, England roared like a lion and was about to wrest the phone from Alfred's hands when he accidently tripped over. The Englishman was not used to running in high heels.

The American went hysterical at the sight of this. "Oh, Jesus, I should make a _video_ out of this, while I'm at it…this is comedy _gold!_" Alfred exclaimed, punctuating his words with brief bursts of laughter in between his words.

England's bunny ears went askew, and, snarling, a steady stream of choice words flowing out of his mouth, he regained footing, his knees a little wobbly. Arthur adjusted his headband back to its proper place, fuming with rage. Oh, he was going to _skin _the little tosser for making him dress in this horrible outfit. His insides felt like they were being squashed within his body, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the countless women who had to wear these kinds of things. The things they had to go through to achieve beauty.

But most of all, of course, he was humiliated, very much so. If those images of him in that Playboy bunny outfit went up online, his pride would be wrecked beyond repair! _That simply cannot be, _he vowed silently in his head._ I WILL put a stop to this arrant nonsense!_

"I bet you're aroused by this, aren't you, you fucking pervert," Arthur snarled, his voice venomous. "You're just trying to contain your raging hard-on. God, you're no better than France."

"No way, man! I'm not gay! But this is still pretty funny though," America laughed. "Anyway, better pose for the camera, England, these photos will be _great!"_

"I'll shove that camera high up your Yankee ass! Give it here!" And with those words, the corset-clad Englishman lunged for the IPhone and snatched it right out of the American's hands.

"What the hell—dude, give that back!"

"In your bloody dreams!" Arthur laughed, running as fast as he could, his high heels clacking loudly on the floor. He still felt a little clumsy running in them, but he managed to keep his balance. "Try to catch me, wanker!"

"That cost like $300, man! Give it back!" America cried, clearly distressed.

England, sniggering furiously, blasted through the doors and out into the backyard. Slipping off his high heels, he climbed up the large oak tree in the corner of the yard until he was high enough to be safe from that America.

Smirking, he waited until Alfred made his appearance. And sure enough, seconds later, the American came running out into the backyard, looking visibly frustrated.

"England, I know you're out there!" he called out. "Give me back my IPhone, man! This isn't funny!"

"Well, you thought my little ordeal with the stupid outfit was funny. But not so funny now, eh?" England sneered, cackling like a witch. "If you promise not to take pictures of me in this costume, then you can have it back."

"_And_ if I _do?_"

"Then I'll curse you, and you will live in misery for the rest of your days," England told him ominously.

"Ooh, that's real scary, coming from a guy in a corset!"

Damn it all! He should've anticipated that Alfred would become difficult in situations like this. _Think, Kirkland, think…think of something he values the most…_

"Soon you'll regret it, Alfred, saying those words. For I will curse you to have severe allergic reactions to fast food! Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, chips, everything in between!" And to add a little more clarification to his words, he went on to say, "Which means you will become violently ill upon eating them."

"Oh no, so scary!" Alfred retorted, although England could swear he could hear a note of fear in his voice. "Whatever, man. I still have my ice cream and chips—or crisps, whatever, and stuff like that! You can't take me down!"

"Why, thank you very much, Alfred!" England replied sarcastically. "A whole lot of other things to add to my list!"

"Uh…I still have meat! I can still eat as much steak and ribs as I like!"

"Another good idea. Perhaps I should just make you a vegetarian. At least it'll keep the pudge off your back!" England taunted him, laughing deviously.

At this Alfred finally broke. Falling to his knees, he started to plead desperately to the island country. "No, please, not that! Anything but that, man!"  
"_Then _do you promise to not post those photos?"  
"I'll never tell a _soul _about you in the costume. I'll even delete the flipping photos! But _please, _England, don't make me become a vegan!" America was nearly sobbing at this point, much to the Briton's amusement. "It's like, one of my _worst _nightmares, dude!"

"Do you promise?"  
"Yes!"

"Do you promise on all the hamburgers in the world, and on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?"

"YES! YES!" Alfred blubbered, tugging furiously at the collar of his shirt. There were actual, honest to God _tears _rolling down his cheeks, it was all just so bloody _perfect. _"I promise on that, and on Obama's shining temple, and on the American way, and on McDonald's and capitalism and—"

"All right," England interrupted loudly, "I bloody _get _it. You can have your damn IPhone back. Good _lord_."

He tossed the IPhone from the tree, and, America, being rather adept at sports, caught it flawlessly. Sniffing, he was just about to pocket it when England stopped him with a loud _tut-tut._

"You will delete them," the Englishman demanded, "right in front of me. D'you hear?"

"Okay, okay!" He took out of phone, touched the screen here and there, at random intervals. "There. Done! Now _please_ don't make me a vegan!"

"You're safe, Alfred. You can stop your childish blubbering now. Away with you, lad!" England assured him, dismissing him with a wave of a cufflinked hand.

He withdrew back into the tree, and, with a sigh of relief, the Briton relaxed a little as he heard the America step back into the house. When he was fully within out of earshot, Arthur pumped his fists into the air jubilantly, laughing wildly all the while.

"Victory!" His shouts were loud enough to send several birds flying for their lives out of the tree England was perching. "Victory is mine! Hail Britannia-!"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a woman who was watering her roses from the next backyard, staring at him, slack jawed.

"Erm," began England. "Top of the morning to you."


End file.
